Emmanuel
by Avgi Nea Imera
Summary: And still the candle kept burning, and though it would flicker, its light would not fade. Part of the Narnia Holiday Prompt Contest. Prompt: Candlelight


_**A/N** : My contribution to the Narnia Holiday Prompt Contest. Answers to the prompt: Candlelight. I hope you all enjoy, and Merry Christmas to you all! Long Live the Lion, and Long Live the Lamb._

There was a candle in the center of the room.

It was fitting, she felt. Her second time through- her first time intentionally and her brother's first time, a candle had lighted her way. It had been night then too.

But tonight- tonight was different.

Around the small parlor (it was actually quite large for a normal-sized house in mid-1940s London, but their standards had changed since going There) were the sparse decorations that their mother and Susan had managed to dig out of the attic (or what remained of it). There was a hearth, but Peter had shook his head when Edmund asked if they could light it. Her heart ached a little for her solemn, dark-haired brother, who had carried his blanket with him and looked haunted by every chilling wind that blew through the house.

There were cookies on the table, and milk - their parents' attempts to distract them fr the horrors outside the four corners of their house. Sometimes, she felt like laughing over their attempts to protect her and her siblings; even she, the youngest and "most innocent" (how she could laugh!) had blood on her hands. The wounds on the forgotten soliders on street corners and the crying children missing entire limbs because their parents hadn't had the money to send them to the country? They were the least of the horrors she'd faced in her lifetime (twenty-five years, not nine).

The soft strains of Auld Lang Syne filtered through the windows, and she managed a little smile as she stared to the eastern wall of the house. Helen and James Pevensie were currently at the Reeds' place, having a little "get-together". Their parents had firmly insisted that it was an "adults only" sort of party, and well. After the trials of the trenches and living in London through the air-raids, none of the Pevensie children would deny their parents several shots of whisky (or whatever else Mr. Reed managed to smuggle home after being injured in the trenches alongside Father).

In fact, she mused, observing her brothers' and sister's longing expressions, they might even envy their parents a glass of wine or two.

"Underage," Peter muttered ruefully. "We haven't been underage in fifteen years now. Our first sip of wine at our coronation ensured that."

"Yes, you always were a little fond of your cherry wine, weren't you, Peter?" Susan said with an expression of mock-rebuke.

"Especially 'round this time of year," Lucy inserted wistfully. The candle flickered, sending the shadows dancing across the walls, and Lucy watched as they took the forms of dancing creatures and Beasts as they swung through the Grand Hall of Cair Paravel. "Halfway through the night, I'd have to rescue you from humiliation by stepping on the toes of some twittery princess-or-other who was flirting with you, and you, my dear older brother, would be far too drunk to sufficiently and gracefully avoid her ventures."

"And I would be across the room with Su, valiantly defending her and Pete," Edmund smiled, even as his older siblings turned half-indignant, half-inquiring gazes on him. "Su from the affections of legions of dimwitted, egotistical suitors, and Peter from the wrath of our dear Gentle Queen's attentions." Edmund ducked behind a pillow as Susan attempted to slap his arm in mock outrage while Peter assumed his "I-am-the-Chosen-High-King-who-shall-not-be-made-fun-of" look, which only served to send everyone else into peals of helpless laughter.

"As if you're one to talk, Ed!" Peter laughed, grinning evilly at his suddenly suspicious younger brother. "Don't you remember the year that Duchess Vicenzi came to visit and you had to be dragged out of your room because she wouldn't stop following you everywhere, squealing over how wonderful you were?"

"Don't remind me," Edmund grumbled. "She drove me mad, chasing me through the Cair."

Everyone laughed at that, but Susan's face crumpled swiftly, and Lucy frowned as she watched her sister's face. Susan had been doing a lot of that recently, closing herself off, especially when it came to Narnia.

"Susan? What's wrong?"

"Can we not talk about Narnia right now? Please?"

"Shouldn't be hard for you, since you never talk about narnia anymore anyway," Edmund grumbled.

"Ed, be nice," Peter chastised, and Edmund shrugged, meeting Susan's eyes in an understanding but firm look. Susan bit her lip and glanced away.

"It's okay to miss being Home, Su. I miss home so much," Lucy tried to defuse the tension even if her heart kept aching at the thought of their kingdom. The admission felt good out loud, despite how many times she'd already whispered it to herself in the silence of her room.

"I'm there when I close my eyes, you know. When I sleep, when I close the room wirh all the lights blown out and the windows drawn, when dreams are all I have left for company. I can see the Cair, with her red and golden flags waving from the ramparts, our friends gathered in the Courtyards and balconies. And, oh! Around this season, the Cair would be decked in green and scarlet and sapphire, the ladies in their finery and the knights in their armor! We'd be having feasts, and parties, and oh- oh!"

Lucy clenched her eyelids shut, but the tears managed to escape nonetheless. Silent sobs racked her body as she blinked rapidly, hating how the shadows still mocked her from their places on the walls. Warm arms found their way around her body, and Susan's soft alto filled the silence that had fallen. She smiled wanly at the others, who were already standing to join them on the rapidly growing cramped couch.

"We'd have King Lune and his sons over for the festivities, and Aravis was agreeing to help us decorate the Cair this year." Susan looked nervous and uneasy, but the gentle confidence that their sister had born as the Gentle Queen was slowly but surely returning. "Lhiere Falconseye even agreed to play her violoncello with the Peridansons, after eight years in the court."

"The dwarves were helping me make a new set of armor for Peter this year, and a new dagger as well. And Sir Reiha- we were going over a chess tournament before we left. He was the best opponent I'd faced in near a decade," Edmund sighed. He cocked an eyebrow at his older brother. "Other people don't even bother trying anymore these days."

Peter chuckled dryly. "Oreius would have been worried sick when we disappeared, and Sir Peridan as well. And Lhiere- she was teasing me about how we've been gallivanting about willy-nilly recently ever since she proved herself capable of handling the Cair in our absence. Now we've left her as Stewardess-Regent for the rest of her life."

The cheerful atmosphere died down quickly, and Lucy felt her spirits drop with it. She glanced at the shadows dancing on the walls. She smiled as one of the shadows took the shape of a dancing faum for but the second, just like her dearest friend Mr. Tumnus.

The candle flickered and Mr. Tumnus disappeared, making Lucy burrow right back into her coat. Susan huffed as the candle continued to flicker. "We should just blow out the candle already. It's not doing us any good anyway."

She was just moving forward to do just that, when Edmund blocked her hand and moved closer to the fire. "Please, sister, nay," he murmured, slipping into his usual way of speech. The Just King curled up on the table, as close to the tiny flame as he could get. "'Tis cold enough without this last vestige of warmth. Mayhaps this Yuletide will be a dismal one, but let us not forget the good this season brought us back home."

Lucy glanced up at her brother dismally. "Like what, brother? What would you have me remember that would not serve to remind us all of our loss?"

Edmund stared into the flames. "Christmas in Narnia was about surviving loss, Lucy. It was about finding hope in the coldest times of the year, of trusting that Aslan would return to chase the snow away."

"Well, Aslan isn't here, is he?" Susan grumbled. "And isn't that the point? Aslan isn't here, and he won't be here for any foreseeable future."

Edmund glared at her. "I thought the same thing our first Christmas There, Su. Look where that got me."

"Well what's the point of celebrating Christmas anymore anyway? It will never be the same as it was in Narnia! Look at us! We're fighting on Christmas Eve!" Lucy finally screamed.

A silence more strained than any Lucy had ever shared with her siblings filled the room. She was just so tired of holding on, of believing when even the best thing that had ever happened to her was tearing her family apart. The room was still dim, though not as bad as earlier. The candle was pretty persistent, she couldn't help thinking.

"The story of the First Christmas in Narnia was lost in Her winter, but I looked up the story here. I found it in the church, actually, the one Mum and Dad never brought us to." Edmund's tone seemed heavier than usual, a quality they only ever associated with his voice when he talked about his time with Her. Even so, it broke the tense silence that had surrounded them earlier and everyone looked at him.

"It was the birth of a boy named Jesus Christ, the son of God who came to earth. He was born in this dingy little town, in a stable even, because no one knew who he was, and nobody cared. Not then at least." Edmund closed his eyes. "He taught really good things in His lifetime. Loved a lot people, cared for them, didn't judge others unfairly. A lot of people accused Him of being a fake because he didn't hang out with the rich folk. He chose traitors and liars and thieves reformed instead. And he forgave people for all sorts of mistakes that everyone else thought were unforgivable, and because of that, more people hated Him! And then one day, all the bad people decided to kill him. They tied him to a cross and He died instead of a traitor and murderer in the company of theives." Edmund raised his eyes to meet his siblings'. Peter bit his lip and glanced at his brother nervously, grasping Edmund's shoulder. "Sounds an awful lot like a story we know," he admitted.

"Like you'd never believe, Pete," Ed smiled. "The part that stuck for me though is how He rose from the grave three days later."

Peter brearhed in sharply and rose to his feet, and Susan let out a sound between a gasp and a cry. Lucy opened her eyes and looked to the Just King, still crouched on the floor and trying to coax a little more light from the candle. "Edmund?"

"Yeah, Lu?" Edmund smiled up at her wanly.

"Do you think that... that it's Him?"

Edmund looked into the flame and bowed his head. "Who else could give His life for a worthless piece of trash?"

"You were hardly trash, Ed." Peter glared at him, but Edmund shrugged and sat next to Lucy on the couch.

"Which is why we can't just stop celebrating, not here. Not when this is, essentially, His birthday, Lu. The greatest celebration we never really celebrated before."

"So don't go blinking out on any of us, precious Light," Edmund smiled, hugging his little sister close. He glanced up at his other sister. "Nor you, my Gentle Queen."

Peter smiled, the strong rock of their family, as he finally joined them on the very crowded couch, and the four of the watched the brightly shining candle on the table.

The carols in the neighbor's house had started up again, and Edmund listened carefully to the lyrics before speaking. "He really does have a lot of names though, doesn't he?"

"Just two, right?" Peter asked, glancing down at his brother. Edmund shook his head. "No. The Bible- sort of like the Old Writings that Lhiere was translating back home- had a lot of names for Him."

"Really?" Lucy smiled. "It suits Him. Having a lot of names. There's really no good way to describe Him, so there's really no one name that will fit Him all by itself."

"What were the other names, Ed?" Susan asked, squeezing her brother's hand; an apology and 'I love you' all at once."

"Messiah, Hebrew for Savior. Prince of Peace. Wonderful Counselor. Lamb of God. Right Hand of the Father. Lion of Judah."

They all smiled at the last one, remembering a golden mane and warm, loving eyes, and a comforting, rich voice. "But that wasn't my favorite one."

"What was it?"

"Emmanuel. God with Us."

And the candle shone brighter into the night, until it gave way to the morning.

Merry Christmas!

-Marie Truesight


End file.
